Law

Against the Devil’s Logic: The Only Way Out Is Mercy

A formidable enemy, and a losing strategy

The Devil is not a trivial opponent. He is not defeated by cleverness, nor by moral self-improvement alone. When calamity strikes—when life collapses in ways that seem targeted, layered, and relentless—people instinctively reach for what feels like the right response: a plea based on righteousness.

They protest. They argue. They appeal.

They say, in one way or another: this should not be happening to me.

But this is precisely where the mistake begins.

The Legal Maxim of Competence: Culpability Follows Knowledge

What appears in the Gospels as several distinct sayings is, in fact, one more legal maxim, fully consistent with the maxims of the sword and the carcass. This maxim can be stated plainly:

Where there is no competence, there is no culpability;
where competence is claimed, responsibility is fixed.

When the Blind Act and the Seeing Are Judged

"Jesus said unto them, If ye were blind, ye should have no sin: but now ye say, We see; therefore your sin remaineth." (John 9:41) (KJV)

One Maxim, Many Forms: Incompetence Removes Culpability

The sayings
“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” and
“If you were blind, you would have no sin; but now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains”

are not two different ideas. They are two expressions of the same legal rule.

Before the Vultures Came

I did not need the Romans to tell me we were already dead.

By the time their standards appeared on the hills, by the time the dust of their marching darkened the horizon, something in Jerusalem had long stopped breathing. The streets were loud, frantic, full of shouting and prayers and arguments—but none of it was life. It was the noise of a body after the spirit has left it.

Do Not Become the Carcass

When Jesus says, “Where the carcass is, there the vultures gather,” it sounds strange to modern ears. It sounds dark, even cruel. Many people hear it as a gloomy proverb about death being inevitable, or as a poetic way of saying that bad things attract bad things. But Jesus is not being poetic here, and he is not offering a riddle to be admired. He is warning people in the clearest language he can use.

Jesus is not talking about birds. He is talking about responsibility.

Where the Law Stands, the Vultures Are Not Judged

The persistent difficulty readers have with Jesus’ hardest sayings comes from a basic misplacement of who Jesus is in relation to language. He is almost universally treated as a sage who speaks in aphorisms, metaphors, and evocative moral imagery, when the Gospels present him first and foremost as a lawgiver. A wise teacher offers reflections meant to provoke thought; a lawgiver issues statements that assign responsibility and fix judgment. This distinction matters because aphorisms describe tendencies, while law establishes conditions.

Where the carcass is, there the vultures gather

Jesus as Lawgiver, Not Aphorist

The fundamental mistake of mainstream Christianity is assuming that Jesus speaks primarily as a wise teacher who occasionally issues commands. The Gospels present the opposite: Jesus speaks as law embodied, issuing judgments that constitute reality. This is why the Sermon on the Mount does not interpret Torah but replaces its adjudicative center: “But I say to you.” A lawgiver does not speak in aphorisms. Aphorisms invite reflection; law assigns responsibility.

The Night I Learned What the Sword Costs

I did not come to the garden looking for blood.
I carried a sword, yes—but not because I wanted to use it. I was a servant of the high priest. My task was simple: walk with the guards, point out the man, keep order if things went wrong. I had done this before. When power moves, it always brings steel with it. You carry it not to strike, but to remind others that striking is possible.

The night was thick and uneasy. Torches flickered. The olive trees twisted like old witnesses that had seen too much. And then everything happened at once.

Law